Let a dying pet go with peace, love

Jan. 30, 2014
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Anne Pollick of Cherry Hill, N.J., holds a photo of her cat Pumpkin, who passed away in April 2013. Pollick's daughter Sandy and her family gave Pollick a new cat named Oliver this past Christmas Eve. / Chris LaChall, (Cherry Hill, N.J.) Courier-Post

by William Sokolic, (Cherry Hill, N.J.) Courier-Post

by William Sokolic, (Cherry Hill, N.J.) Courier-Post

If so, Pumpkin ended the last of his in April, when Anne Pollick made the agonizing decision to put the 14 year-old cat to sleep after he went into cardiac failure.

"I knew that would happen," Pollick said. "Still, it was a shock. I kissed him and told him how much I loved him.

"He was my baby. But I did not want to see him suffer."

The particulars change, but Pumpkin's situation comes to every pet owner sooner or later and begs the question: How far do you go to keep a pet alive? And when do you finally let go?

"The loss of a pet is a significant emotional event for most people," explained Dr. Patricia Fisher, of Garden State Animal Hospital in Cherry Hill, N.J.

"They view pets like a member of the family."

In Pumpkin's case, the end began when the orange tabby refused nourishment and his heart condition took a turn for the worse. Yet many pet owners have difficulty with the inevitable. That's when hospice often comes into play.

"We will facilitate hospice when the client is not ready to let go," Fisher said.

Maybe a family member is away at college and wants to say goodbye first. Maybe they want a little more time to prepare.

"Animal hospice is used for those pet owners who want a few more days to manage the pet's health at home," noted Coleen Ellis of the International Association for Animal Hospice and Palliative Care.

The use of hospice is growing, said Dr. Brad Bates, of Lap of Love in Douglassville, Pa., which travels to homes throughout the Delaware Valley dealing with euthanasia and hospice.

"We treat symptoms related to comfort of the pet. It's almost all pain control and nausea control."

In addition to pain management, hydration is a key element at that point, Fisher said.

Sometimes a client asks the vet when the time is right. "I tell them, 'You will know. No one knows the pet better than you.' "

Decisions to end a pet's life can lead to guilt in many situations, according to Bates. "But there's nothing to be guilty about.

"If pain medication is not working, then it's time to think about euthanasia."

When that decision is made, it should include grieving time. "We give owners as much time as they need before and after," Fisher said.

As for the actual procedure, owners react differently. Some kiss their pet goodbye and leave the room. Some wait until the procedure ends.

Not all euthanasia is performed in a vet's office. It can be taxing on the owner to have the last memory of their pet be in a sterile clinic. Instead, they elect home euthanasia.

That's what Laura and Gary Ginsberg did when it came time to euthanize Daphne, a 14-year-old basset hound suffering from lymphoma.

The Marlton, N.J., couple rescued Daphne as a 9-year-old. Two years later, the dog's back legs stopped functioning.

"We both worked full time, so we thought about putting her to sleep," Laura recalled. Instead, they tried water therapy. The treatment helped and Daphne graduated to an underwater treadmill, building up her muscles and walking again.

While the story had a happy ending at that point, things changed. Last year, Laura felt a lump on Daphne's thigh that was diagnosed as lymphoma. Laura wanted to end the dog's life.

"Gary wanted the gold standard of treatment," she noted.

Daphne went through chemo and into remission. But she developed a lung infection and pneumonia, preventing more chemotherapy.

"There was nothing more they could do," Laura said. "She could have lasted a month, but we did not want to see her suffer."

Earlier this month, Dr. Bates euthanized Daphne at home.

"We gave her a full-body massage the whole time. Gary was upset," Laura said of her husband. "For me, it was more relief.

"But it was still heartbreaking."

Peter Nichols, a retiree from Voorhees, N.J., had time to devote to Tokyo, a 12-year-old Akita, one of several he's had over the years. In June of 2012, Tokyo lost control of his bladder and use of his back legs.

It turned out the canine suffered from a degenerative progressive disease in which compression on the spinal cord cut off nerves down his back.

"It was not fixable," Nichols recalled. "There was no way to reverse it. He became crippled, but he wasn't sick or in pain. He was eating and drinking."

Nichols bought Depends adult underwear he doctored with duct tape to fit Tokyo. He had to change the diaper several times a day.

It went on like that for a year.

"It was physically and emotionally demanding," Nichols said. "Being retired, I had the time. It's like an extreme for me, but my circumstances allowed it."

Last August, Tokyo stopped eating.

"His body was breaking down," Nichols remembered. "I decided rather than see him die inch by inch, I would have a home euthanasia. He'd be comfortable in his own surroundings."

Nichols held Tokyo in his arms as he passed away.

"The last thing he saw was me. It's very tough to do, a lot of tears."

Going to such extremes varies from owner to owner, according to Bates.

"If you spend the rent money on care, that's too extreme," he advised. "If a procedure cost $500 and you can pay, that is not extreme.

"But even rich clients won't do progressive treatment if not appropriate."